my momma bleeds
cut deep in her heart by her hope at love,
she bleeds at the thought of when she was loved.
she then bleeds out on me.
Now I am the one who flaunts with the need to be loved and the urge for security.
my momma bleeds,
If you look deep in my eyes you'll find her blood in my iris.
YOU ARE READING
2015: DYSFUNCTIONAL
PoetryThis book is very personal to me, having grown up in a dysfunctional home has really changed me as an individual. I just grew up feeling like an adult whereas I was just a child , and now that I am an adult I'm learning how to heal the child in me...
